Arcane Mishaps

Fyodor F. Fedor lived alone in a lighthouse, because he was a magician it seemed like the perfect isolated laboratory with fixed income, he just had to maintain the light.
One Samhain night when the fog was particularly thick he was up to his neck in flasks and vapour cowering over his big caldron when it happened.
A fog-horn roared through the bubbling silence and he kicked over the copper tray. He tried to reach out and grasp it but was too slow.
It hit the thick rim of the black iron pot clanked and with a big boom! and a white flash, it instantly reacted with his concoction.

Agatha was sitting alone with Rufus Ruckus, her companion for seven years, meditating on the futility of human company when you got the best dog in the world.
With a harrumph behind her Sigmund Troll stirred her attention. She swung around with a facial expression that showed how very close to a heart attack she was. She had expected to find a dark figure with a knife ready to end her not so young life. But she saw nothing out of the ordinary, just her porcelain troll collection and tooth ache sweet reading corner.
Sigmund stepped forward and Agatha first couldn't grasp what she saw. He started speaking:
"Well Agatha this is it. The Zero Hour has come. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
Agatha flabbergasted struggled for words.
She said:
"What is happening? Have you always been alive?"
"Dear child, don't be silly. Porcelain dolls aren't alive. A certain Fyodor had an accident two minutes ago and now I am."
The other porcelain trolls stirred as he added: "We all are now."
With a devilish grin they all marched towards her, the eyes getting an increasingly intense red glow as they pulled their tiny knives.
"You see we are going to enslave humanity now. Do our bidding."
Agatha jumped up in panic. "What do you want?"

The trolls stopped and looked at eachother. "What do we want?" Sigmund asked his troops.
There was a shoulder shrugging and confused looks all around as they started whispering to eachother, which lasted a good minute or two in which Agatha's nerves felt like they were about to burst.
Sigmund emerged from his fellows and with an even devilisher grin said:
"Make us pumpkin soup!"

The End

a reply to: FurPerson

Very cool story, FurPerson! Scared the sheets out of me.

Great names, too.

a reply to: FurPerson

tooth ache sweet reading corner.

Well that explains it.

I need one of those.

a reply to: FullHeathen

I think you completely missed the point of the story.

This is not about interior design... oh wait maybe it is. What if with the accident F.F.F. gave life to all inanimate entities?

a reply to: FurPerson

This is not about interior design... oh wait maybe it is.

Proximity, spatial and literary.

The trolls were close to the books, so they concluded with pumpkin soup.
If they had been close to the torture rack...

a reply to: FullHeathen

oh my...

continue *popcorn

a reply to: FurPerson

I'm just guessing that Agatha doesn't have a torture rack.

So nothing to add.

Spiced Apple Cider?

a reply to: FurPerson

S/F! Yum

a reply to: FullHeathen

just because she knits and reads doesn't mean she can't have urges and a dark side.

how dare you?

a reply to: FurPerson

Reminds me of this song! Great writing!

a reply to: FurPerson

Great story. I liked how you were building up suspense only to come up with the anticlimactic ending. Fits in here perfectly.

a reply to: twistedpuppy

I hate pumpkins. Can't eat that without almost vomitting.
Just like Banana and Avocado


for me that was HORROR to write

a reply to: FurPerson

Oh dear, I didn't know. Pumpkin soup is so delicious. But still, it was supposed to be for the Enemy, not you.

a reply to: FurPerson

“ Banana and Avocado”

I am going to be sick!!! Yuck! 🤮